


Irreverent: Drabbles

by imaginesandinserts



Series: Irreverent Series [2]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:48:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27613724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginesandinserts/pseuds/imaginesandinserts
Summary: A series of drabbles that fit into the Irreverent universe and help fill some gaps.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Original Female Character(s), Aaron Hotchner/Reader, Derek Morgan/Reader
Series: Irreverent Series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2018867
Comments: 9
Kudos: 66





	1. Jump House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ONLY READ THIS IF YOU HAVE READ THROUGH PART 19 OF THE MAIN IRREVERENT SERIES

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ONLY READ THIS IF YOU HAVE READ THROUGH PART 19 OF THE MAIN IRREVERENT SERIES

It was Jack's birthday and Aaron and Haley had decided to host it together at the old home they used to share, which only Haley lived in now. He wasn't back there much besides the occasional visits to drop off or pick up Jack. Haley or Jess were usually nice enough to drop Jack off at work, making his life easier. A bunch of kids from Jack and Haley's Mommy & Me group were there along with their parents, Jess's family, and the BAU team were all there. Haley had been the one to suggest inviting the team and he realized it was so that he wouldn't feel alone.

You'd arrived fashionably late, dressed in casual jeans and sneakers and looking like you'd be right at home at a child's backyard birthday party. You'd had some trouble ringing the doorbell and when Aaron had opened it, it had been to a giant package with legs. He'd quickly helped you move the box into the living room and then led you out to the backyard.

As the two of you reach the backyard, you can see Jack playing in a large jump house erected to one side of the backyard along with a few other kids. You'll have to catch him later - he looked like he was having too much fun to be interrupted.

"Can I grab you something to drink?" Hotch asks, leading you to where the rest of the team is huddled around the food table.

"Oh, I'm alright, thanks," you say, smiling and greeting everyone else.

Derek and Emily were drinking beers and Rossi had a glass of wine in his hand. You raise an eyebrow at them. _At a child's birthday party. Really guys?_

"Don't give us that look, kid. Gotta make this bearable somehow." Rossi hands over his glass of wine to you, prompting you to take a sip.

You take a small sip to appease him before handing it back. You're too nervous to drink around all the suburban parents and their children. You hadn't actually ever been to a child's birthday party before and this all felt like some alternate reality of normalcy. Though you suppose Hotch had that effect - he was the person on the team with one foot planted firmly in this world. A world that you'd never get to have.

Right then, a blond woman whom you recognized from the photo on Hotch's desk when you'd first started, came up to all of you. The frame had since been replaced by one with a photo of Jack by himself.

"Hey you all, thanks for coming," she says, smiling at all of you. "You must be Y/N, we haven't met yet, I'm Haley."

You wave and greet her. So this was the ex-wife. You look at Hotch and observe how he holds himself around her. It's easy, laidback. They're comfortable with one another. She asks him to help with something inside and they leave to go do that, while you make your way to where the drinks are, running into some of the kids' fathers along the way. They were all incredibly friendly.

Aaron found himself back outside as the party was dwindling down. Candles had been blown out and Jack had smushed his face into a slice of cake. A lot of the kids had been taken home by their parents. He watched as you chased Jack around the yard as he still had quite a bit of energy left in him. You were laughing and running around and he loved seeing how easy it was for Jack to have fun with you. He'd worried that his and Haley's separation would make things harder on Jack, and in the beginning it had. However the last few weekends with Jack had also been weekends with you and it had made it easier. You'd made it easier.

"I wonder if you'd look at her like that if we were still married."

Aaron turns to see Haley standing next to him, her eyes watching you and Jack just as his had a moment ago. His brow furrows, not knowing what she's trying to say. He wasn't looking at you in any way.

"I think you would," she continues. "I think you'd look at her exactly like that."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he replies, his mouth forming a straight line. He didn't like what she was implying. You worked for him and he didn't think about you in any way besides the way one would think about a coworker.

"Sure. Except, you know, you used to look at me like that."

She turns and walks back into the house before he can say anything else. Aaron finds his gaze wandering back to you - there wasn't much else in the backyard for it to wander to, however. You'd crawled into the jump house with Jack and the two of you were bouncing together, your exuberant laughter dancing through the air.

Haley had watched you from the second Aaron had introduced the two of you. She knew that Jack had spent a couple of weekends with you and her ex-husband, playing at your place. Her son was incredibly enamored with you and your house and she'd found herself incredibly curious about the new agent who Aaron was willingly spending his free time with.

Aaron watched you. Not on purpose. Not with any intention. But his eyes followed you and someone would have to be blind not to see it. She hadn't expected you to be so young. All of the other FBI agents she'd met were closer to Aaron's and her age or older. You couldn't be more than twenty five years old.

She'd watched as you interacted with Jack. Her son who hung on your every word and patiently let you wipe cake off of his face and let you hug him for more than a second. She supposed she could tell why Aaron was captivated. He loved his son - no matter what happened between them, that was something she knew without any conditions. Aaron Hotchner loved his son. You seemed to make Jack happy, so of course Aaron would want you around.

Except, she had a feeling Jack wasn't the only Hotchner who loved being around you. She had a feeling her ex husband was going to have a problem on his hands very soon if he didn't already. Because the way he watched you was the way he'd watched her in the beginning - an earlier, adolescent version of that same gaze that had been hers alone.

Aaron was going to have a problem on his hands - you were twenty five and carefree and she'd watched as you talked to all the fathers at the party. They'd all leaned in a bit to you, they'd all offered to grab you a drink, joked with you, and you seemed to enjoy the attention. You were young and happy and Aaron Hotchner was anything but.

Aaron - when he did love - he loved completely, entirely, all consumingly. You were going to break his heart. Aaron Hotchner - in that capacity - was not a concept for you. To you, he was Hotch. He was your boss who was probably just a little grumpy but who had a cute kid that you loved being around. She had a feeling he'd never be anything more to you and that broke her heart.

She'd felt the need to warn him. Tell him how obvious he was. Him looking at you like that - she had a feeling it was inevitable. If it truly was or if it was just her way of making herself feel better about her own indiscretions, she wasn't sure. Aaron had never confronted her about it, though she was sure he knew. He was a profiler - one of the best - unless it came to himself. She wondered how much longer it would take for him to realize it.

If she set aside her own feelings on the matter, she had to admit that you'd be good for him. There was some jealousy there - he was hers for twenty after all. You were young and gorgeous. You were happy. You would get him all the time and she had never been part of that world.

You'd get everything with him.

If only you managed to see the way he looked at you.


	2. A Very Derek Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ONLY READ THIS IF YOU HAVE READ THROUGH PART 39 OF THE MAIN IRREVERENT SERIES

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ONLY READ THIS IF YOU HAVE READ THROUGH PART 39 OF THE MAIN IRREVERENT SERIES

"You're coming home with me for Christmas."

You look up at Derek as the two of you walk out to the parking garage. It was the week before the whole team would be off for the holidays and it marked the first without Emily. The realization that it was only the first of many more Christmases and birthdays without her was more than you were willing to deal with, so you pushed it to the back, hoping to simply forget about it.

"I have plans," you tell him, hoping he won't see through your lie. You had plans - if plans included sitting at home by yourself and drinking.

"Cancel them. I already booked your ticket."

Arguing with him would be pointless. Instead you roll your eyes with a smile and thank him.

You had a feeling he felt it was his job now, with both Emily and Hotch gone, to make sure you were alright. Like some sort of divine calling from Emily up above. _Below?_ Who knows really, though you'd like to think she's in heaven. If there was a heaven.

*------------*

Fran Morgan had raised three kids almost entirely on her own. All of her children had turned out good, and both of her daughters were married. Now, if only Derek could find a nice girl to settle down with, she could feel like her job was done.

He'd called and told her he was bringing a friend home for Christmas - a female friend. She didn't like that he just called her a friend. Her son should know better than to think he could sneak one by his mother. Derek had never brought a girl home before and now he was bringing one to meet the whole family for the holidays. She wasn't born yesterday.

*------------*

The Morgan family was warm, welcoming, and just what you needed that year. Something to help you forget how shitty life had been lately. A reminder that good things like family and fun and heart were still concepts in the world. Maybe not your world. But other people's, and well, that was something at least.

You and Derek were both conscious of the implication of him bringing a girl home for the holidays. He'd already warned you that his mother would think that the two of you were together and would do her best to worm it out of you. There wasn't anything to worm out, but you both knew that from the outside looking in, your relationship was…odd to say the least.

Derek was every bit the man his mother had raised him to be, especially around you. He made an effort to hold doors open and walk on the outside of the sidewalk and had a hand on your lower back if it was just the two of you. The thing was, none of this was new or a direct product of Emily dying. The two of you had always had an easy and natural chemistry. It was just more of it now that neither of you had anyone else to have this with.

You'd both expected some amount of weirdness after that one time you'd made out on his couch. And yet, nothing changed. He still trained with you. The two of you still shared a bed when you could, because sleeping next to someone was simply nicer. Neither one of you was dating someone so it wasn't wrong or anything, though you still made an effort to make sure neither Reid nor Rossi caught on to the bed sharing.

In Derek's childhood home, his mother led you to the room his sisters grew up in while Derek took his old bedroom. Mrs. Morgan - or as she'd asked that you call her, Fran - intimidated you. She had a look in her eye that told you she saw way more than she let on and that made you a little uneasy despite her kindness and warmth.

*------------*

You were pretty, exactly Derek's type, his sisters had remarked. Fran and both her daughters were on edge, waiting to catch the two of you in a moment that betrayed what they all suspected - that Derek Morgan had brought home a girl that _mattered_. The three of them watched you like hawks, comparing notes on any little thing they caught.

Desiree had seen her brother bring you a mug of hot chocolate, filled to the brim with marshmallows, because apparently that's how you liked it. She'd stood in the kitchen, pretending to make herself some tea as she watched Derek hand you the mug and tease you about the number of marshmallows you'd demanded. There was a look in your eyes, a sparkle that she recognized from when she'd first fallen in love with Keith. The sparkle he would get in his eyes when she said something that made him fall just a little more in love with her. That sparkle meant something.

Sarah noted that Derek laughed more with you. Her brother was always a fun guy but with you it was like his normally buoyant personality got a boost. He was showing off for you, trying to make you laugh, he was _trying_ and the Derek they knew didn't try for any girl. Girls tried for him. The two of you had taken it upon yourself to finish decorating the tree for their Ma and Derek had watched as you struggled to reach the very top of the tree to put the star on it. Instead of doing it for you, he'd lifted you up, hands wrapped around your waist, as if you weighed nothing and helped you put it on the top yourself. That look in his eyes - that look of pure adoration - that look meant _something_. How could it possibly not?

Fran had kept an eye on both of your bedroom doors at night, knowing her son wouldn't be able to resist sneaking over to sleep next to his girlfriend. Yet, as far as she could tell, the two of you stayed in your own rooms the entire night. Maybe he was just being respectful because it was his Ma's house. Yeah, maybe.

Desiree had been the one to put mistletoe up around the entire house. Then all three Morgan ladies waited, and waited, and waited. Until finally, the two of you happened to walk under the piece of mistletoe dangling above the entrance to the kitchen. You laughed, the barest of color in your cheeks as you went up on your toes and quickly kissed Derek's cheek. He didn't lean in. He didn't make it linger. It was over in the blink of an eye. All three of them looked at one another, completely confused. _Well now what? What would it take to get you two to admit it?_

*------------*

"You wanna go out for a bit?" Derek had asked you.

The two of you had been in Chicago for two days, most of which were spent participating in good old fashioned American Christmas traditions. His family had made it really easy for you to forget about your work and Emily and Doyle for a bit. It was a welcome respite.

Derek led you out through the garage, where you nearly stumbled and fell, dragging a tarp down with you. You'd uncovered an old motorcycle that looked like it hadn't been touched in years.

Derek laughs, helping you up. "I didn't know we still had that."

"Is it yours?" you asked, appraising it with some interest. You recognized it as an old 1980s Katana.

"It was my dad's," he explains. "I rode it around town as soon as I was big enough, though my Ma hated it. She was always worried I'd hurt myself."

You chuckle. You could see a younger, more rebellious version of Derek, sneaking out with the bike to pick up a girl.

Derek notes your curiosity. "Do you ride?"

"Yeah. It was really more Julian's thing," you tell him, your hands brushing over the handles. "But I asked my friend to teach me after Julian died. I had his old bike shipped over and rode it all through training."

Derek listens with interest. You didn't talk much about your brother and it was new to see you have some positive familial relationships. "This the same friend from New York that you…," he trails off, but you know what he means.

You smile, feeling a small pang in your chest. "His name's John," you explain, your voice soft. "I haven't seen him in a while. Not since my first Christmas with the Bureau."

Derek doesn't push. If you wanted to tell him more, you would. He can't help but think that John sounds like a cool dude. Your voice got all soft and fluttery when you talked about him. Completely different from when you talk about your ex, Matthew. He wonders if that's all he was - a friend.

The implication that you haven't slept with anyone since your first Christmas with the Bureau isn't lost on him. He couldn't imagine having gone that long without.

*------------*

Christmas morning, Desiree and Sarah arrive with both of their families and the Morgan home is filled with children and laughter and happiness. Derek is a good uncle, you note. He rough houses with the boys and will let the girls paint his nails and play tea party with them. The two of you while away an hour, pretending to drink tea and speaking in exaggerated British accents.

The family exchanges presents. You'd gotten something for all of the kids when you and Derek had gone out. You're not expecting anything, yet Fran hands you two wrapped packages. The first is from the entire Morgan family. Your first night there, they'd all been over for dinner and Fran had made sure to get a photo of everyone sitting around the table. You'd been sat next to Derek and you were both smiling, his hand around the back of your chair. Fran had framed it for you along with an invitation to come back anytime.

"Fran, thank you so much," your voice broke just a bit. Instead of saying anything else and embarrassing yourself, you chose to just hug her and allow her to wrap her arms around you. You understood where Derek got his incredible hugging ability from.

"Oh honey, we mean it. Anytime," she says, patting your cheek softly.

You open the next gift from Derek to reveal a vinyl record of an EDM artist both you and Emily had raved about and would constantly play in the plane when given the chance. You look up at Derek, unsure of what to say, so the only thing that comes out is, "You got me a vinyl EDM record?"

He laughs. "It's a vinyl record because you're bougie now you can have your ratchet music playing from that fancy record player."

You feel your eyes well up just slightly. He'd remembered the artist, he'd obviously gone through the effort of having a custom vinyl record made. And it was Emily's favorite too.

You blink back your tears. _Not in front of people._ "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now let's see what you got me," he says with an exaggerated wink, eliciting a laugh from you.

Derek opens his present to unveil an autographed rookie card to one Walter Payton, legendary running back to the Chicago Bears. You watch in glee as his eyes bug out.

He looks up at you in shock. "How…?"

You smirk, knowing that it was the perfect present.

*------------*

Later that afternoon, you're helping Fran in the kitchen with the gingerbread cookies which Derek and his brothers-in-law are entertaining the kids in the living room. Desiree and Sarah had gone out to grab some stuff from the store for their mother. The news is playing in the background as you and Fran use the cookie cutters to cut out the gingerbread men for the kids to decorate.

Fran is telling you about how, when Derek was younger, he used to sneak spoons of sugar before dinner and then get stomach aches to skip out on school the next day. She can hear you chuckling as your head is bent over the cookie dough. However, the next second she can feel you tense. She looks up to see you frozen, cookie cutter in hand, eyes trained intensely on the TV in the living room. She watches as you and her son exchange a look and you excuse yourself from the kitchen.

You were gone for around twenty minutes and when you returned, your phone was ever present in your hand. You tried to act as though nothing had happened, but she didn't need to be a profiler like her son to know that something had changed.

You faked your way through dinner, before excusing yourself to go to bed early. Fran pulled her son aside and asked what the matter was. She sees his eyes dart to your bedroom door, behind which you'd disappeared moments before.

"The news earlier today, there was a bomb that went off in Pakistan. We've got someone there," he explains. "Someone important."

That look in her son's eyes - the look that she as his mother could read like the back of her hand. That guilty look that tells her that something wasn't quite right, something wasn't quite perfect about the two of you together. In that moment, Fran Morgan realizes, you and her son - it was nothing more than a pipe dream. Oh you mattered, you definitely mattered. But there was someone out there that mattered a little more than her son ever would to you.

She pats Derek's cheek and he leans into the comfort of his mother's touch. Kissing his Ma on the cheek, he walks down the hallway, and for the first time that entire week, she sees him slip inside your room.

*------------*

Derek had seen the raw fear in your eyes as you both caught the news regarding the bomb in Pakistan. You'd excused yourself and made a call to Penelope, asking her to keep you informed on any casualties or injuries. Anything at all.

Derek enters your room that night and sees you in bed with the phone next to your pillow. Your eyes are closed but he knows you're not asleep. He doesn't go to your bed. Instead he sits in the armchair by the window, turned towards you. Going to lay by you now felt wrong somehow. Because Derek. Derek knew even if you didn't.

Sometime around three in the morning, your phone buzzes and there is a message from Penelope. You blink and squint to read the screen in the dark room. Derek has been sitting in that chair for hours, the two of you pretending to sleep though neither one could.

Your voice is heavy as you speak. "He reported for duty this morning," you tell him.

Derek nods wordlessly before standing to go back to his own room.


	3. Undercover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ONLY READ THIS IF YOU HAVE READ THROUGH PART 41 OF THE MAIN IRREVERENT SERIES

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ONLY READ THIS IF YOU HAVE READ THROUGH PART 41 OF THE MAIN IRREVERENT SERIES

It was an odd sort of awful feeling - wanting to go away and wanting to go nowhere.

It had been about a month since the Senate hearing and you'd stayed. You'd thought about leaving - dropping off another resignation letter or just reusing the original one. You'd sat in the office long after everyone had left, even printed it out a few times. Yet, you never made it up the steps to his office. You never actually submitted it again. As you left the office, you tossed it into the paper shredder. You did that every few days for two weeks, before you finally accepted you weren't about to leave.

It had been about a month since the Senate hearing, and no second resignation letter had arrived on his desk in the middle of the night, so Hotch had accepted that you were staying. He'd spent the week after the hearing in perpetual paranoia every time he saw you - wondering if now would be when you quit again - wondering if he'd walk into work the next day and find envelopes on his desk and this time you wouldn't conveniently still be at home. In his gut, he knew that if you left, he'd likely never see you again.

*------------*

Hotch was making you go to a Bureau therapist to get recertified for the field. Apparently once you kill your own father during a mission as revenge for murdering your brother and being responsible for the near death of your best friend, it sprouted some doubts about your emotional and mental fitness to handle a firearm. It was a _joke_. He might've written those questions but every single one of you knew how to answer them in order to pass.

He hadn't even had the _fucking_ decency to tell you to your face. You'd simply been summoned by the psychiatrist, a Dr. Barnes, who had peered at you over her glasses with fake concern. She asked if you'd attended your father's funeral. The Bureau had returned his body to your mother, taking care to cover the bullet hole in his head - or so you'd been told. You hadn't actually attended. Your mother had tried to get in touch with you but you'd avoided all calls. You'd commemorated the day in your own way, pulling Julian's old bike out of storage and riding it up to a rented cabin in West Virginia, with no cell service, where you proceeded to drink until you blacked out.

*------------*

Derek was worried about you. You could tell in the way he always offered to train you after work, always asked if you wanted to grab a drink after a case, and tried to make sure you had plans every single weekend you happened to be free. The first time, you lied and told him you were meeting up with some old friends from Harvard. He showed up at your house late Saturday morning and called your bluff. After that you didn't bother lying to him but you also didn't want to do anything. The two of you spent many afternoons on your couch with him introducing you to the Star Wars movies. He couldn't believe you'd grown up with brothers and had never seen them. You told him that Dominic had been far too old to spend time with a baby and Julian, well, Julian had never really been into that sort of thing.

Reid tagged along a couple of times too, which you appreciated because he'd always add in fun little tidbits about the actors and knew all the behind the scenes dirt. He told you he still wasn't talking to JJ. You'd be a hypocrite to advise him otherwise, so you merely nodded sympathetically while the two of you sampled every brand of scotch you'd managed to get your hands on. You did, however, tell him to not follow your example on the matter. JJ wasn't really the person to be blamed for this. He'd said it himself - Aaron Hotchner was solely responsible for the combined misery you'd all experienced.

*------------*

Emily was coming back. Apparently not even dying could keep Emily Prentiss from doing the job. Hotch was making her go to the therapist as well. Faking your death - another thing that warranted FBI psychiatric clearance. You'd dropped off the list of the questions Dr. Barnes had asked you on her desk. Couldn't hurt to be overprepared.

*------------*

You were professional. That was really the best word he could use to describe you in the aftermath. You did your job and you did it well, leaving nearly no room for him to complain. Morgan had pulled him aside and mentioned to him that prior to the Doyle mission, he'd been seriously considering promoting you. Apparently you'd shouldered a lot of his responsibility while Hotch had been away and done it all incredibly well. You'd even sat in on a few meetings where Morgan was double booked and Rossi was unavailable and handled it with ease.

Aaron wasn't surprised at that - you'd always been good at maneuvering politically. However, right then, with the Senate hearing still visible in the rear view mirror, he couldn't even fathom promoting you. Too much had happened and he needed to feel more confident in your commitment to staying with the Bureau and on the team before he made any decisions regarding your future.

With the future in mind, he knew that he also had to take some important steps towards rectifying his own. Step one was to get rid of his own ridiculous feelings for you. They were unwarranted. You were not the most beautiful woman ever. You were not the funniest person he'd ever known. You were not alarmingly bright and wonderfully perceptive.

Maybe if he said it enough times, he'd start to believe it.

He had to find fault in you. Aaron Hotchner did not tolerate faults and he wouldn't tolerate them in you of all people. You had to know that you meant nothing to him. That you were not special.

Easier said than done, but it was a work in progress.

*------------*

We don't realize we're special until we're treated as less than.

Hotch didn't pair the two of you together anymore for anything. He didn't sit by you on the plane. He didn't walk by your desk and hand you a coffee he'd grabbed on the way, exactly what you liked. There were no more late nights at work with the two of you in his office, working through paperwork together. You made it a point to leave when everyone else did so you'd never be alone with him. The one time you'd stayed late to wrap up a report, he'd uncharacteristically left early.

There was a part of you that missed the easy friendship you had with him. You knew it had been different between the two of you - you'd had a natural sort of chemistry, you laughed at the same things, and you knew that at your core you always had tried to align your values to his. His values made sense. Now however, he barely even looked at you, and despite you still being upset with him, you really didn't understand why he was upset with you. Rossi had told you that he'd reacted poorly to you quitting, like it was some sort of personal attack. Which you suppose it had been, though not for the reason he thought.

At some point, Hotch had started to call you _Agent_. Not by your name, but Agent. Agent L/N or just L/N. You hadn't noticed it at first but after a while it became quite evident. Emily had been the one to point it out, asking if it was Hotch's way of punishing you or distancing from you. After that you couldn't help but notice it and you had to train yourself to not flinch anytime he said it. It didn't sound right. You'd always been Y/N. He only called you by your last name for introductions, never personally.

Derek had told you to just apologize or at least clear the air with Hotch so that working with him would be easier. But, why should you be the one to do that? Yes, sure, you'd gone a little renegade and killed your father. But what he did was so much worse and it was made more worse because you know you can't fault him from a professional standpoint. You realize that's really what's at play there - the rest of them didn't take his lies and him leaving personally. You had.

You'd taken some of Dr. Barnes' advice and tried to really think through why you're hurt by Hotch more than the others. Sure, the two of you spent more time together compared to anyone else, because of Jack. You'd gotten used to spending weekends with the Hotchners, having them both over for brunch, going to the farmer's market together, having days at the park sitting on a bench as Jack played with the other kids while you and Hotch sat on a bench with coffees in hand. They had been your normal. The kind of normal you'd never really thought you'd get to have.

He had hurt you - he was the one person you'd have bet on to never lie to you and never hurt you, and he had. You know that if you told Dr. Barnes this, she'd tell you that you saw Hotch as a father figure and him lying to you reminded you of how your father had manipulated you your entire life. It didn't take a psychiatrist to know that you didn't trust people easily, and the one person you had trusted implicitly had broken your trust.

You're not sure if it's the trust thing as much as the fact that he simply hadn't been there when you needed him. You knew that was your own fault. You'd built a whole new life for yourself, and between work and Jack, Hotch had become the anchor in that new life. You shouldn't have done that - made another human being so entirely central to the stability of your life. That had been a mistake.

*------------*

There was something different about you and Morgan. You two had always gotten along but he'd picked up on the fact that things had changed when he'd first returned for the Doyle mission. He briefly finds himself wondering if the two of you are somehow together. You definitely flirt with him, all big eyes and hair flips, sultry voice and obvious jokes. It's not too different from how you flirt with anyone though. There had been moments before he'd left, when he'd convinced himself you were flirting with him - moments when you were the only one to see the same things he did, ones where you'd quietly brush by him with the smallest of smiles on your face, the dry sarcastic quips that were designed just for him. It was all subtle and nuanced and he'd ended up projecting his own feelings onto those situations, convincing himself that they meant something. Somewhere in all the little personal things, that was how you really flirted. Or so he told himself.

Even now, when someone said something actually funny or particularly stupid, his eyes sought yours. He couldn't help himself. He'd look up to see if you'd caught what he had, but you were always looking down or away. Once, he'd thought you'd turned to look at him as well and he'd turned his head so fast he almost got whiplash. But you were already looking at something else. He thought he could see the barest of smiles on your face, but with his luck he'd probably imagined it.

You didn't laugh around him anymore. You didn't even really smile around him. You did your job and that was it. There hadn't been any team gatherings or happy hours where he got to see you loosen up and enjoy yourself. You'd skipped out on the one gathering at Rossi's place, citing a prior engagement, but he had a feeling it was because of him. You didn't let him see you anymore.

He's found himself lingering outside of conference rooms or walking slowly past the bullpen, just to catch a glimpse of a smile or a hint of your laugh - something to remind him of who you used to be when you weren't Agent L/N. He catches it sometimes, usually because of something Morgan had said.

Then he'd remember - he's supposed to not like you. There you were, laughing, joking around at work. You should be working instead of wasting time. He thinks about telling you as much, but he knows what will happen - your face will change into the neutral expression you tend to wear around him now and he'd have to live with the knowledge that he'd been the one to remove a smile from your face. _Operation Fall-Out-Of-Love-With-Her-You-Complete-Idiot-Hotchner wasn't going so well._

*------------*

You haven't seen Jack since Hotch got back. Asking him to see his son - just his son - probably wouldn't go over too well. You're not even sure if he knows you saw Jack regularly while he was gone. The two of you barely spoke while he was in Pakistan and unless Jack remembered to mention it during one of their chats or Jess told him, he doesn't know. It's not exactly the right thing to do, seeing a kid without their parent's permission. It's not. You know that. You're worried if you ask him, that he'll say no. He won't want someone who's a killer around his kid.

Once, after a case, you tried to beat him to Jess's house to just really quickly say hello to Jack and check to see how he's doing. You ran a red light trying to make it there before him, but Hotch drives fast. Faster than you ever could. Your hands tremble at the wheel at anything above seventy, so you're rarely the person who drives during a case. He'd beaten you there and you watched from your car down the street, the night cloaking you. Watched him grab Jack into a hug and the two of them walk back to Hotch's car together while Jack's telling him some story that you know you would've loved to hear. Somehow you managed to make it back home despite the tears clouding your eyes.

Jack's room in your house stood exactly the same as the last time he'd been there. The sheets were changed every two weeks and everything was dusted whenever you cleaned up the rest of the house. You wanted it to be ready for him - just in case. A few more photos had made their way onto the wall - one from the summer with you two at the fair, Jack holding onto some cotton candy. Sophie had taken that one and she'd been extra careful to get your whole outfit in the frame. You were very proud of her - her photography skills had improved a lot over the months you'd gotten to know her better. There were also a couple pictures of Jack with his cousins and one of him and Jess from the time you'd arrived a little early and she'd asked you to come join them all for breakfast. Jess had become a good friend to you in the time that Hotch was away. The two of you spoke often about Haley, as you'd asked her to tell you her and Hotch's story. You knew he'd promised her that he would tell their son how they got together, but you wanted to be able to supplement that as well. Jack deserved to know how in love his parents were, from as many people as possible.

Finally, after weeks of debating it, you decide to drop by Jack's preschool the morning of a case, in the hope that arriving a little late to the airport would be more excusable than arriving late to work. Traffic getting there could be a nightmare. You waited until you were sure that Hotch had already dropped him off. Parking quickly, you flashed your badge, bypassing the main office and quickly went to Jack's classroom. His teacher told you that they were just about to start an activity, but she allowed Jack to step outside and see you for a moment while she watched diligently.

"Y/N!" His excited voice and quick run over into your arms was the absolute cutest thing you'd ever seen and you had to try hard not to cry as you held him. As if sensing that you needed a moment, he allowed you to wrap him in your arms and waited to tell you more about everything he did the day before. That was the thing about Jack, he never complained when all you wanted to do was hold him.

You made it to the airport and were only about five minutes late, but Hotch still glared at you and called you out for keeping everyone. However, not even he could put you out of your good mood afterwards. It had been entirely worth it. 

*------------*

"You're moving really stiff," Derek tells you as you unbandage your hands after spending a quick session in the ring with him.

The two of you were the last ones in the Bureau gym and it was late at night. You're wearing leggings and a sports bra, having given up wearing a shirt a while back. The basement got far too stuffy for layers and the guys walked around shirtless most of the time anyways.

"I know," you respond, getting the last of the bandages off and grabbing his water bottle from him. You'd forgotten yours and you're the one who had the real work out. He makes a face as you tilt your head back and nearly finish the entire thing, before handing him back the remaining two sips. "My shoulders really hurt," you whine.

Sighing, he walks over to you. "Turn around," he instructs.

You turn and he moves your hair out of the way, placing his hands on the back of your neck and shoulders. You try to relax as he kneads your taut muscles into pliancy. Derek had amazing hands and you're convinced he could always become a masseuse if the whole FBI thing wasn't working out. You tell him as much and he chuckles, thumbs pressing into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, pushing a soft moan out of your mouth.

"Easy princess, got a girlfriend now," he says teasingly softly. "Can't be making sounds like that."

You laugh as he continues, trying to be more careful, but it was hard. "I think I just need to get laid at this point," you tell him. He hums from behind you and you know he agrees. He's still amazed that you've lasted this long without.

"You gonna do something about it?" Derek continues, kneading both shoulders firmly and working out all of the kinks.

"I actually downloaded a dating app," you admit, trying your best not to lean into him. _He just felt so good_. You have to remind yourself that you'd had the chance to sleep with Derek. Trying anything now, when he'd just started to hit it off with someone else, would be disrespectful. And well, as good as you're sure it would be with Derek, there's something not quite right about sleeping with him. You'd only want to sleep with Derek if you could be sure you'd only ever want to sleep with him.

"How'd that go?" He pats you on the back, prompting you to turn back around to face him.

"Mm not so good. Have men always sucked this much or is it a new phenomenon?" you ask him, eyebrow quirked as you grab the towel he hands you. 

Derek shakes his head in amusement. "You've never really had to try dating before, have you?"

"No. First it was Matthew and then John. The other guys I met either through friends or just in life. I don't know, it's probably just me. I don't know how to do the whole hook up thing, and that's what guys are looking for it seems."

"Then I guess you're stuck holding out for someone you already know and trust," he tells you, leading you out to the locker rooms.

"Ah, so it's between Reid or Rossi. Unfortunately neither one of them really does it for me, and I'm sure hooking up with Rossi will bring out some unfortunate daddy issues I've been stifling," you joke, rolling your eyes at the hopelessness of the situation.

Neither one of you bring up the one name you'd left out. The one person on the team who was single, available, and yet entirely untouchable. Not that you'd want to sleep with Hotch. He was attractive, sure. You're adult enough to admit that. But any sex between the two of you right now would really only be classified as hate sex and you didn't think you could stomach the thought of having him fucking you while you're both still upset with one another. Not that you wanted to sleep with him at all. But if you did…

_God, I really need to get laid if I'm thinking about sex with Hotch._

*------------*

The latest case was taking the team to New Jersey. You might have only spent one proper year in New York, but like every good property tax paying New Yorker, it was your right to despise New Jersey to its rotten core. The only time you deigned to go to New Jersey was to learn how to make tiramisu from Mrs. Costello, who had wrapped you up in her arms the moment she saw you and asked you why you didn't simply date her son. You and Ricky had gotten a good laugh out of that.

There were three women who had already shown up dead, all of them found in positions of prayer or devotion, with obvious signs of sexual assault. The working theory was that it was a group of unsubs - at least three of them - based on the physical evidence. You're all on the plane and Garcia was pulling up the last images of all three girls. It appeared they'd all been out, partying at various nightclubs and bars around downtown. Their attire from the nights they'd gone missing was entirely in contrast to the white gowns their bodies had been found in.

You looked over the statements that had been collected by the family members. All three girls appeared to fit a type - not with regard to looks but more so personality. They all partied, seemed to be going places in life, and you had a feeling they were at least somewhat sexually liberal.

"We're going to have to map out all of their last movements," Hotch tells Garcia, who begins to type furiously. "None of these women appear to have any connections in common, so there is the possibility they were chosen at random on the night they were out. In which case, profiling the victims is just as important as profiling the unsub."

"Repressive religious beliefs for the unsubs," Morgan chimes in, to wide agreement. The religious undertones were apparent in the positioning of the victims.

"Likely also all brought up in homes with oppressive father figures," JJ says. "The violent nature of the attack is indicative of someone who was beat up as a kid."

"I think they have a problem with women who are sexually liberal," you add. "Madonna-whore complex, where women are either to be exalted or degraded, no in between. They want to punish the whores."

Hotch can't deny that you're spot on in your assessment, and it was the first piece of the profile that he hadn't thought of himself already. He shares a look with Morgan who is seated next to you. Morgan had been pestering Hotch to consider you for a promotion, and while Hotch had been on the lookout for anything to find fault with, arriving five minutes late one time really wasn't grounds to deny someone a deserving promotion. Though that hadn't stopped him from stewing about it the entire week it had happened. He'd gone and given you a hard time about it and you hadn't spoken up at all, simply letting him bully you slightly. He'd ended up feeling guilty for his behavior and let you run point on the interrogation to make up for it. Which had gone exactly as you'd planned for it to. His excuses for not promoting you were getting weaker by the day.

Once on the ground, Reid and you worked together to build out a geographic profile of the unsubs' hunting and dumping grounds and established a zone of comfort while the rest went to the crime scenes and scoped out all of the night clubs the girls had frequented.

Using credit card charges, Garcia was able to narrow down to a single club that all three girls had been gone to at some point during their night out. It wasn't always the place they'd been grabbed, but being the only one in common, it could be assumed that it was where the victims were chosen. Per the accelerating kill time, Hotch and Rossi were convinced that the next victim would be taken the next day which was a Saturday night. Prime going out night with a large pool of candidates, and all of the other victims had also disappeared on Saturday nights.

"Prentiss and I checked out the place," Derek says as everyone is assembled in the conference room over dinner on Friday night. "It's kind of a night club and hookah lounge combination. Plenty of private tables along the walls for a group to sit and scope out the joint, pick a girl and get her drunk."

JJ had ordered Chinese food for the team and you all had boxes of chow-mein and kung pao in front of you, chopsticks in hand as you eat. Rossi had given up using the chopsticks and had grabbed a fork - the Italian-approved utensil- and it was something you and Hotch would've made fun of him for before. You find yourself looking to see if he's noticed Rossi's complete inability to even try with the chopsticks but he's looking past you at the white board, reading over all of the notes. For the best really. Not like you two could even manage to smile in the same space together.

Hotch turns away from the whiteboard and watches as you reach over to Morgan's plate and pick off the broccoli he'd pushed to the side. He'd gotten better at ignoring these little bits of intimacy he caught between the two of you. The only other person you had such an easygoing relationship with was Prentiss, and the two of you weren't entirely back to how you'd been before everything.

A couple of weeks ago, he'd happened to walk by the bullpen on the way to a strategy meeting, when he'd overheard Morgan and Prentiss talking about a date he'd gone on. He'd slowed down in order to pick up on details and when he heard the name of some girl - who decidedly was not you - he'd felt his heart jump ever so slightly. Making sure to keep his expression neutral, he'd continued down to the elevators. If Morgan was dating someone that wasn't you, he had to imagine that meant the two of you were not together. Judging by the fact that your and his relationship was unchanged over this entire period, he put two and two together and determined that you had never actually been together and he'd simply picked up on the closer relationship the two of you now shared, bred in his absence.

"Easiest thing would be to send someone undercover," Rossi says, eyeing all three of the women around the table.

JJ raises her hand to volunteer, but you had a feeling that she might not be the best choice in this scenario, and you say as much. It's an unspoken rule on the team to not profile one another, but well, none of you could really help it. It came naturally. You doubted she was used to these environments, especially not in a place like New Jersey.

"JJ, have you ever been to a hookah lounge?"

She shakes her head no.

"If you had to think about demographics that go to this place," you say, turning to Derek and Emily, "what kind of people would you say frequent it?"

"Girls interested in showing off the latest designer bag, get drunk, and hoping to meet some guy with money. Guys looking for girls exactly like that," Emily answers with a small smile on her face. She knew where you're going with this. JJ would stick out like a sore thumb there.

You look at Derek. "You and I are probably the only ones that could blend in."

He agrees and the two of you look at Hotch for his approval, which comes after a second. He knows that going undercover is the most expedited way to catch these unsubs but he's always nervous when sending agents in as bait.

"I'm going to need to go shopping. I forgot my clubbing clothes," you tell him.

Hotch nods. "Stick to a budget please."

"Always do," you reply, taking a bite of your eggroll. "Anyone want to come help me pick my _whore_ outfit?" you ask facetiously, a small smirk emerging on your face.

Emily laughs and agrees to accompany you. From the corner of your eye you see Hotch's jaw tighten ever so slightly. Well, nothing you could do about that. It's hard to be perfectly professional all the time, and you were _trying_ dammit.

Aaron was extremely uncomfortable having you be very obviously tarted-up bait for unsubs who had brutalized three women already. He knew it was the team's best shot at catching these guys and he hadn't been able to disagree with your assertion that JJ wasn't the right pick for the setting. However, hearing you refer to yourself as a _whore_ \- even jokingly - struck a nerve. You were anything but.

Why he'd had such a strong reaction to that word in reference to you, is something he'd have to examine more later. He knew it was at least somewhat tied to his own religious upbringing. The knowledge that you were incredibly deliberate with who you slept with had given him some sense of peace earlier on. It had been something he shared with you and back then he'd added it to the list of reasons why he should just tell you how he felt. You two were utterly compatible in most ways. Of course, that had been then and this was now. Things had changed.

*------------*

Hotch had already coordinated with the club and they'd given Garcia access to their internal security system. Using her own particular brand of technical magic, Garcia had been able to enhance the live stream video quality so that they could have a view of everything going on in the club and keep eyes on you constantly.

The team was monitoring from two locations - a couple of large vans from where Rossi and Hotch would be monitoring both of the entry points to the club. You walk into the conference room where Derek, Emily, and Reid are sitting, to a low whistle from Derek.

"Looking good princess," he says, eyeing you and up and down and standing to walk over to you. "We're gonna have to fight the boys off of you so you can actually get to the unsubs at all."

Emily had done a good job helping you pick an outfit. The two of you had had a good shopping trip (almost like old times) and you'd decided on a slinky gold slip dress with a deep slit that hugged you perfectly, paired with strappy nude heels. It was reminiscent of outfits you'd worn when you went out in New York. You'd made up your face completely to the point where you felt you were barely recognizable and your hair cascaded past your shoulders. You knew you looked good.

You look at Derek and he's just wearing jeans and a button down that he already had with him. _Men! It was far too easy for them._

Emily hands you an earpiece, reminding you that you won't have a weapon with you, so you have to be extra careful.

Hotch walks into the conference room, mid-conversation with Rossi on coordinating their locations, and stops dead in his tracks when he sees you. He looks you up and down while you're distracted, speaking with Prentiss. The dress clung to your skin, moving with you like water. Your breasts were pushed out as much as possible while still maintaining a modicum of decency and as you stepped to the side, the slit gave him a view of your legs, all the way up to your smooth thighs, in a manner he found entirely too sensual. You were _hot_. He has to swallow and force himself to return to his conversation with Rossi, who absolutely knows what had distracted him.

Aaron had always bucketed you under the cute label, with your prissy cardigans and long sleeved blouses. This outfit, however, was undeniably hot, and he's forced to admit that he's far too enamored by it. Dangerously so.

You turn and see that Hotch and Rossi have arrived as well and you turn to face them, looking at Hotch. "So?" you ask. You're not sure why you asked him, it had simply slipped out. You didn't care what _he_ thought, and it wasn't as though Hotch was in the habit of commenting on your appearance.

You watch as he keeps his eyes fixed on yours and nods. "You look like the perfect bait," he says, no change to his usual straight lined expression.

You offer him a half-smile, unsure how to take his compliment. If it indeed had been one. He hadn't really even looked at you. Before, he would've at least looked at you properly even if you knew that outfits like this really weren't his cup of tea. No, Hotch definitely went for subtle sexuality, not the in-your-face kind. Regardless, you thought he might want to see what you'd bought with his Bureau card, but well, _apparently not._

*------------*

You and Derek enter the club separately as the night is in full swing. It was better to arrive towards the middle rather than be too early and draw attention of the wrong sort. You make a beeline to the bar through the throngs of people dancing to the loud music, and catch the attention of the only female bartender there.

"I'm going to ask you for shots all night," you tell her, leaning across the bar so only she can hear you. "I need you to make sure that all you give me is water." You slide a few hundred dollar bills to her and she looks you up and down to memorize who you are, before nodding and sliding the bills into her pocket.

With that part out of the way, you start to make your way through the crowd to get a better feel for the place, dancing alongside random people as you do. As Derek and Emily had said, the layout of the club had a large dance floor in the center, surrounded by private tables with people either drinking or smoking from large hookah sets. There was some ventilation in the ceilings to prevent the place from becoming too smoke filled, however it still caused a hazy sort of atmosphere which admittedly went well with the dark room and thumping music.

"Status update?" Hotch asks from his spot in the van that was at the back of the club near the alley.

"Nothing yet," you respond, acting as though you're simply singing along to the music. Being in a loud, crowded club was really only bearable when you're drinking, and forcing yourself to move along to the music was proving to be harder than anticipated.

Hotch had half the cameras in the room trained on you to make sure you were alright. He'd already instructed Garcia to make sure there wasn't a single second you weren't on a screen.

You look around the room as you dance, swaying your hips to the music. There are hands that graze past you, boys trying to cop a feel or ones who simply start dancing behind you, sight unseen. You try to maintain your focus as you slowly turn and assess the dynamics of every table on the outskirts. You skip past the ones that have more than one girl seated there. These unsubs wouldn't take someone who came with friends. Those were witnesses. They'd want a girl that had split off from her group.

As you're turning, you catch sight of a table with three men. The middle one is posturing, his body language calm and at ease. The other two sit on either side of him, flanking him. All three of them are dressed similarly to Derek, dark jeans and button downs. Dark hair on all of them with well kept beards indicate that they've been friends for some time, likely grew up together. People in close proximity for extended periods of time end up mimicking one another's style.

Turning away from the table, you speak, "My eight o'clock, table with the three guys. Get me a read on the group dynamics?"

They can barely make out what you said over the loud music, but Garcia has a camera trained on you and Reid's lipreading ability comes in handy to supplement whatever was unclear. Garcia moves one of the cameras remotely, and Hotch looks at the table of men you'd indicated. A group of three fits the profile and their body language definitely indicated that the two men on the side were subservient to the one in the middle.

"The one on the right, he's the weakest link," he tells you. He would be your target, in an attempt to subvert the group dynamics. The alpha wouldn't like that you'd gone for the one he perceived as the lowest of them and would want to lash out or impress you himself.

"You're probably going to have to do something more than wear that dress and dance to get their attention," Emily says. You know she's right. You blend in with this crowd a little too much. You'll have to go further to get their attention.

"Garcia, run facial recognition on all of them and see what you can find," Hotch instructs, as he watches you on the screen, making your way to the bar and indicating to the bartender from earlier to give you two shots. He watches you down them both and make a face as though it was cheap vodka and not simply water.

Your eyes scan the crowd for Derek. It was time to kick things up a notch. You see him dancing at a spot across from the unsubs. As his eyes meet yours he makes a come hither gesture at you with two fingers, that is undeniably hot. You narrow your eyes at him, a smirk on your face, as you make your way through the crowd again and start dancing nearby. You won't go to him directly. Letting him come to you would send a better message to the unsubs.

"Hi Princess." You feel rather than hear his greeting as he comes up behind you, shoving past another guy who had been trying to dance with you. He wraps his arms around your waist and the two of you move against one another to the beat of the music. You turn yourself so you can see the table with the three men and your eyes seek out the one that Hotch had told you to focus on. Derek continues to grind against you, shielding you from anyone else.

Reid had once told you that if you stare at someone for more than six seconds, they can usually feel it and will instinctively turn to look at you. _Time to test that out._ All three of the men are scanning the crowd, and you can tell they're hunting. Looking for their next prey.

Derek continues to guide your hips with his, letting you do your job and still blend in for the time being. The one you're targeting finally looks at you and as you make eye contact with him, you raise your hand to sweep your hair to one side. Derek can take a hint. His lips find the side of your neck as the two of you continue to dance, and you and the unsub continue to watch one another, his intense, dark gaze boring into you. You give him a small smile, moving your hips in an exaggerated manner. You know you have his attention. He continues to look around after a few more seconds, but his eyes keep wandering back to you.

"We good?" Derek whispers into your ear, before standing up straighter, his warm lips leaving the side of your neck. He knew the team was watching as well, and while it was hard to tell in the dark, he'd really only rested his lips against your skin, nothing more.

You turn to face him and smile placing your hands on your chest, nodding imperceptibly. You were more than good. Now you just had to do something to push it over the edge.

Aaron watches as you walk away from Morgan and back to the bar. He'd watched you and Morgan dance against one another, the way you'd moved your hair to give him something to work with as his lips came to rest against your skin. He knew better now than to think it was anything more than friendly, but he couldn't help the clawing feeling in his stomach as he'd watched the two of you gyrate against one another _. Unnecessarily close_ , in his opinion. The camera Garcia had trained on your face was his personal torture, as he watched you smile and make bedroom eyes at the unsub.

You get back to the bar and hold up four fingers to your bartender and she quickly makes a show of pouring out shots while actually only filling four shot glasses with water and placing them in front of you. You slide over some more cash as if you're paying for the alcohol, and then turn to look at the table again. All three of them are looking in your direction now, and you know better than to waste the opportunity. You pick up the first shot and make a cheers motion in their direction, before downing it in one go. You proceed to down the other three as well and let out a loud and exaggerated _Woo!_ before swaying back onto the dance floor, making sure to make your movement appear a little clumsy.

"Kid, looks like they're eyeing that redhead dancing near them," Rossi says, his worried voice coming through loud and clear to you as there was a din in music for a quick second.

You look to the girl he's talking about and you know he's right. She's been dancing with a few guys at a time and looks far too drunk to function. "Garcia, are these our guys?"

"One of them owns a property near the first dump site and they all grew up going to the same orthodox church. They all have a record - mostly for assault but the one in the middle also brought a knife to his college class and threatened some girl who didn't agree to date him."

"Good enough for me," you say, waiting for their agreement, which comes quickly.

Your eyes scan the crowd through the dark and after a couple of minutes, you spot what you're looking for. You stumble your way through the crowd as casually as possible, making sure to angle yourself in their line of sight. You approach a wispy blonde girl who had been dancing by herself for some time and you begin to dance with her. She responds quickly, moving to be closer to you, her hands finding their way to your waist as you both move together.

Aaron watches as you begin to dance with the young blonde girl who was dancing almost directly in front of the unsubs' table, unsure of what you're going for. However, your intention becomes clear very quickly when you reach out and grab the girl's face, crashing your lips against hers. Nothing like two girls making out on the dance floor to get the attention of every guy in a fifty foot radius. He watches as well, completely entranced. _I have to watch,_ he tells himself. _Sure Hotchner. Sure._

You pull apart from the girl, licking your lips. Hmm, she hadn't seemed to mind, as she'd kissed you back rather enthusiastically. You throw her a wink and a smile, before walking towards the restroom, which just so happen to be in the direction of the table the three men are at.

As you walk by, you're careful to stumble and fall, imploring the weakest link to reach out a hand to help stabilize you.

"Oh my god! Thank you sooo much!" Your voice comes out super high and exaggerated, exactly the way you'd expect a girl to sound six shots in.

Instead of continuing on your way, you grab onto his hand tighter, throwing him a large, grateful smile. He smiles back, dragging you into their seating area.

"I'm Caleb," he yells at you over the loud music, "And that's Connor and Keith," he says, indicating towards the other two men.

You smile at all of them, keeping your hand still clasped around Caleb's. "I'm Y/N!" you tell them, smiling and moving your tongue to lick your lips again.

"You looked good out there," Caleb tells you, looking at you and then turning to the other two men who nod and agree.

"You want a hit?" the one in the middle, Keith, asks, handing you the Hookah pipe.

You nod, getting up from next to Caleb and wedging yourself between the two men, but making sure to lean more into Connor still. Grabbing the pipe he hands you, you look around at them all. "Where are you boys from?"

"In town," Connor, the last one, answers, seemingly annoyed that you're now seated between his two friends.

You nod again, bringing the pipe to your mouth and wrapping your lips around the opening before inhaling in deeply. It had been a while since you'd done this, and you're a little nervous you're going to mess up. _Just focus, breathe it in, hold it._ Parting your lips, you blow out slowly, forming rings of smoke in front of you.

"And this is why she's the one that went in." You hear JJ's voice on the earpiece and have to compose your reaction and stay in the moment, making small talk with the three men and allowing Caleb to move his hand to your thigh.

Hotch watches as you interact with the unsubs. He's already dispatched teams to the property that was near the prior dumpsite and is waiting for an update. The three men - boys, really - are being far too chatty with you, all three of them crowding you on the cushions. One of them offers a drink and you make a joke about not accepting drinks from strangers. _Good girl_.

Caleb has been trying to convince the other two that you should be their target for the night. You can tell by the way his hands haven't left you, but he's also encouraged you to cozy up to his buddies.

"You want to come back to our place with us?" he asks, his eyes gleaming.

You know this has to be the first time any girl has paid him alone this much attention. But he needs their buy in to bring you back. It won't happen if you appear to be only interested in him.

"All of you?" you ask, lowering your gaze and allowing your long, dark lashes to graze your cheeks before looking around the entire seating area, giving each boy individual eye contact.

"You want it to be just me?" he asks.

You know the other two won't like that at all. It's obvious from how you feel Keith tense up behind you.

"Oh, I think on your own, I'd eat you right up," you whisper to Caleb, biting your lip. You know that Keith heard you, as you can feel him laugh right behind.

Caleb seems a little annoyed and yet entirely flustered as he looks around at his buddies. He must've received the go ahead, because he nods. "Yeah baby, all of us."

You smile. Boys were so easy. "Hmm," you say, grabbing the pipe once again and inhaling, before blowing a small cloud of smoke into Caleb's face. "Alright," you breathe out.

Caleb moves through the smoke to kiss you, but you make him stop with a hand to his chest. "Let me just use the restroom really quickly, and then we can all…have fun together," you say, a sultry smile planted on your face.

He nods, the two of you looking around to see if the other two are also onboard.

Caleb helps you stand as you make your way to the bathroom, bypassing several girls in line by citing an emergency, and wedging yourself into a stall so that you can talk to the team for a moment.

"Guys, we don't have enough yet, do we?"

"No," you hear Reid say. "We either need them to allude to the other girls or find physical evidence at the property."

"Alright. Then, let them rough me up a bit. Don't intervene until you have to."

"I don't know about that, princess," Morgan says, and you can hear the worry in his voice.

"I'll be fine. I can handle it. Let me try and get it out of them at least."

"Okay." It's Rossi this time. Hotch has been uncharacteristically quiet for the past twenty minutes.

You make your way back outside to meet the unsubs.

Hotch watches as you walk out of the restroom and back towards the table. He did not like this at all. You were willingly about to put yourself in danger to get a confession or some allusion to the crimes, but he hadn't been able to think of a good enough professional reason to make you not do this.

You walk up and hold your hand out for Caleb to grab and the three men lead you out to the front, telling you that their car is parked around the next block. You hook your arm into Keith's elbow and smile up at him as he turns to look at you.

"So, do you guys like, do this often?" you ask, looking at Keith.

He looks at you for a second, a smirk on his face. "Sometimes, been a while since the last time we shared a girl though." He looks at the other two and they share a smile.

Caleb still has his hand clasped in yours, and as the four of you make your way down the seemingly empty alleyway, he pushes you up against the wall and shoves his tongue down your throat. You try your best to respond to his attentions, trying to ignore the disgust you feel. His hands grope your waist as he kisses you without any finesse.

The other two boys are simply standing there, waiting for Caleb to finish. "Yeah, what was the last one's name?" Connor asks.

Caleb pulls away from you. "Elizabeth," he says, not removing his eyes from yours. You feel a shiver run down your spine. His expression is entirely different from how it had been inside.

That's it though. That's all you really needed. You hope the team is headed your way, because you know you have to get out now before they escalate.

"Actually," you say, allowing for some exaggerated nervousness to enter your voice. "I'm not too sure I should do this. My friends are probably looking for me." You start to extract yourself from Caleb's grasp, however he tightens his hold on you. _Where were they?_

Keith comes to corner you against the wall himself, shoving Caleb out of the way. "You're coming back with us, now," he says, his voice deep and low, as he gets right up against your face. You can tell he has a weapon on him. "Can't be backing out now." You feel your stomach clench tighter.

"FBI! Let her go!"

You turn and see Derek, Hotch, Emily, and Rossi standing in the alleyway, their guns raised and pointed at the three men. It's in your best interest to act like you aren't with them still. You pretend to look terrified, looking from Keith to the team.

Both Caleb and Connor try to make a run for it and are easily apprehended by Emily and Rossi. Now it's just Keith and you, his face still far too close to your own as you're shoved against the wall. He reaches for his gun in his pocket, and before either Derek or Hotch can react, he has the barrel pressed to your temple as he grabs you roughly, walking backwards away from them.

"Don't come any closer, or I'll shoot the girl," he says, dragging you back with him.

Hotch watches as the unsub grips your arm tight, and he can tell you're still putting on the act of being a civilian as you claw at him and beg him to let you go. However, neither he nor Morgan have a clear shot at Keith and he can feel a pit growing in his stomach. You'd trusted him - _them_ \- to protect you and now you have a gun to your head and there's easily a 70/30 chance of him shooting you just to escape. Despite the fact that he knows you're acting, your terrified face is still far too much for him to bear as he holds his gun tight. Maybe you weren't acting anymore.

"Alright, we're going to put our weapons down," he says, speaking calmly to the unsub and appealing to his rational side. "You let the girl go."

"No," he shouts against your ear. "You probably have snipers waiting to take me down. It's a trick!"

Aaron's stomach drops as Keith grips you harder and shoves the gun tighter against your head. "I'm serious, I'll kill her."

He watches your face, you stop protesting against him and your eyes go to Morgan. He sees the barest of smiles appear, and before he has the chance to wonder what on earth you could possibly be smiling about in a situation like this, you throw Morgan a quick wink as well. _What the hell!_

The next second, you've elbowed Keith, ducked from bullet range, stomped on his foot and flipped him over and onto the ground, his gun in your hand, pointed at his face. It happened so quickly that Aaron could barely believe it had happened at all. _You had just flipped over a man at least twice your weight. In a dress. And heels._ Aaron would be lying if he said he wasn't slightly in awe.

You look down at Keith who looked like the wind had been knocked out of him. "Not just a girl," you grind out, shoving your heel into his side.

It's pretty much over after that. Hotch and Derek come to help you and Hotch handcuffs the guy while Derek checks you over for any injuries. You hand over the gun to a uniformed officer in an evidence bag. With any luck, it would match the gunshot wounds on the victims.

After depositing the unsub into the back of a cop car, Aaron comes back to the van where the rest of the team is gathered. He had a feeling that the other two would flip easily on Keith. You won't be needed for interrogation. After that, it would be a pretty cut and dry case.

You're leaned against Morgan, and as he meets his eye, he notes the smirk on his face as if asking Hotch, _Seen enough yet?_ He really wouldn't have an excuse not to promote you now.

"Good job," he tells you as he reaches you. You simply nod at him in acknowledgement.

Your perfectly pinned hair has slipped somewhat and the makeup around your eyes is smudged. If this was before, he could've reached out and pushed the hair back or hugged you to remind himself that you were alright. He knows very clearly that he won't be getting over you. He'd known it at the beginning, but tonight had confirmed it.

He almost wished it was simply because you were pretty. What a concept - liking someone just because they're pretty. It seemed simpler, less permanent. Falling for someone however - not just because they're attractive, but for how they navigate the world, for the way they make others around them feel, for their intelligence, for the way they move, for the way the air crackles around them, for the simple fact that they make you believe - believe in the hope that one day things would be better - that kind of falling for someone has consequences. It leaves track marks that are easy to trace and moving on from that sort of person - he didn't think that was something one could force.

He watches as you slip your heels off, your feet red and raw from having been in them all night long. Your dress had ripped slightly, and the slit exposed more of your upper thighs than before. His eyes glaze over as he watches you walk up into a seat on the van, stretching your legs across another seat and slumping into it, seeming entirely spent. He's not sure how obvious he's being in that moment.

Regardless of anything, he's going to need a cold shower tonight. A long, cold shower.


	4. Sickness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was an ask I got on Tumblr on Hotch and the Reader's relationship that became a little more of a drabble-esque thing so I wanted to put it here too for visibility in case anyone who only follows on AO3 wanted to read it as well

**  
Ask on Tumblr: Hey there! I have a cold and it got me thinking, how do Hotch and Reader deal with sickness? How do they help each other and how do they help Jack?**

**Hotch**

  * Aaron will not admit that he is sick. Ever. The man would literally rather collapse on the job than admit that he's sick and get some rest. 
  * She didn't know this about him until she sees him sick for the first time during her first couple of years with the team. He'd gone and caught a cold and was nursing a cough and sniffles that he was trying to hide in vain during a case. His nose is all red and worn dry from the hotel tissues he's using that are stuffed into his jacket pockets and the man is running purely on coffee. It wouldn't occur to him to go and get medicine for himself. That's time away from the case. 
  * Everyone on the team noticed - it was hard not to. However, they're all trying not to say anything because he's Hotch and it would likely be wasted breath. Rossi tells him to go rest once and is ignored so he lets it go because Aaron is a grown man. 
  * She makes Morgan stop at a pharmacy on the way back to the precinct from witness interviews, saying she needs some girl items and buys the Day Time and Night Time cough syrup, cough drops, the nice tissues with the lotion so his nose won't be all dried out, and some cans of soup because they're in the middle of nowhere on this case and she wouldn't trust the local restaurants much. 
  * They get back to the precinct and its late so the team is wrapping up for the night and they all head back to the hotel. Hotch is a little surprised to see her following him to his room instead of going to hers and asks what she's doing. She just says she needs to talk to him about something, knowing he'd protest at her trying to take care of him, especially in front of other people. 
  * They get into his room and he'd really just been looking forward to a hot shower and going to bed, so he's actually a little annoyed that she wants to talk about something right now, especially as he can feel a migraine coming on. 
  * She tosses everything out onto the bed and practically orders him to go shower and tells him if he wants her to leave, he's going to have to do it himself, because she won't leave on her own until she's seen him take the meds and have some soup that she's already pouring out into a bowl and heating up for him. 
  * Hotch isn't quite used to this level of aggressively being taken care of and is ready to tell her off but she's looking at him so entirely defiantly, as though daring him to even try, and she's doing it because she cares and it's nice. She's doing something nice. Also like yeah, soup sounds kind of good…
  * So he goes and showers and comes back to a hot bowl of soup that she watches him finish, while pretending not to be and acting like she's just looking at something on her phone. She knows he doesn't really want to talk right then and the silence with Hotch isn't really awkward silence so they just sit there while he drinks soup and she sits on top of the desk and pretends she's ignoring him with the TV on in the background. He's letting the soup warm him up and tuning out the news anchor while wondering why she can't sit on normal surfaces - _like what is that even about? Would it kill her to use a chair or just sit on the bed like why is it on top of the goddamn desk?_ He has half a mind to ask her about that but that sounds like it's going to turn into some sort of argument and he hasn't the energy for it. 
  * "I'm done," he'd say, showing off his empty bowl of soup for her inspection. She tells him good job and it gives him an odd fuzzy feeling inside even though he tells himself she was only saying it jokingly. Except her tone wasn't joking and why did it feel good to have her say that to him? He didn't need her approval. She worked for him, not the other way around. He's a little too out of it to really think more about that particular thing though. 
  * She pours out the Night Time cough syrup for him, way past the line on the little plastic cup and hands it to him to take. He's too tired to question it and allows himself to be essentially roofied into a deep sleep. The last thing he hears before he knocks out is her whispered "Good night Hotch" before she slips out the door. He ends up having a bit of a lie in the next morning and wakes up to a blueberry muffin on his nightstand and a poured out dosage of the orange colored Day Time syrup along with a note telling him that the team went ahead and when he's ready, to give her a call so she can come pick him up. 
  * After that, he knows better than to try hiding that he's sick from her, but he'll pretty much only let her baby him a bit, while still being scary boss man around everyone else. He also will now only buy the tissues she got because wow the lotion really did make a difference and there's a couple of the travel pack versions that sit in his go bag always, just in case. 
  * Babying him became a whole lot easier once they were actually together and after that Aaron really does openly just tell her that he's sick because she'll brush her fingers through his hair and just make him all comfy and cozy as much as possible and yeah he doesn't like other people doing stuff for him, but she does it so well and she really truly enjoys taking care of it and will get mad at him if he tries to hide it from her, so really its just easier to be upfront about it. Or at least that's what he tells himself. 



**Reader**

  * She hardly ever does get sick, but when she does it's awful. She's miserable and she'll be the whiniest little baby about it, falling asleep on just about anyone. She doesn't want to be coddled and she doesn't want soup. She just wants to sleep the sickness away. 
  * Before they were together, she was sick during a case once - it has literally only happened one time that she's been sick while actively on a case and it was after their fight and subsequent resolution but prior to them getting together. 
  * Unlike Hotch, she's not resistant to medication and is more than willing to just drug herself and knock out and she recovers much faster than he does because she'll start taking the medications immediately.
  * Hotch was seriously concerned that she had narcolepsy, from the number of times he found her simply passed out when she didn't actively have something to do. He kept her with him at the precinct the entire time, deciding (wisely) that maybe handling a firearm in the field wasn't the best thing for her or anyone else at the moment. 
  * She's a lot more touchy than he is, even prior to them dating and especially after they make up, they were so far along in their relationship as just friends that her simply sleeping leaned against him just does not phase him anymore (mind you, this is after they basically spent a night on his couch together - after that nothing much could phase him). 
  * The team comes back to the conference room with Hotch sitting on the couch that's there, and her laying down with her head in his lap and his one hand playing with her hair as his other is holding one of the case files. He's painfully aware of how intimate it all looks and she's asleep so only he has to deal with everyone's reactions, so before they can say anything, he quickly shushes all of them and tells them to only talk if they have something important to share. He suffers through all of their little whispers and snide comments and side glances while she sleeps peacefully, blissfully unaware. 
  * The team as a whole has this odd agreement to not mention any of this to her. They all know - they can tell how easy it is for her and Hotch around one another. However, they all think she needs to come to the realization herself. Hotch wouldn't appreciate the meddling and she's still the baby of the group so they're all just a little protective - Hotch is great and they all trust him but she's also young and they're careful to not push her towards something that maybe wouldn't occur to her otherwise. She's not the kind of person to pine and sit on information of that nature if she's aware of it, so they all know that she doesn't even know yet. This is evident by how quickly she initiates after the realization does hit her. She definitely goes after what she wants. 



**Jack**

  * Jack loves sick days because that means one of them will stay home with him and coddle him and he's a kid that loves to cuddle so he'll easily climb into either of their laps and just snuggle because that feels safest when he's not feeling great. 
  * Aaron is the exact opposite with Jack than he is for himself. He's very much like her taking care of him - all the meds and tissue and soup. Aaron handles it all wonderfully and makes sure that Jack is comfy and recovering well. 
  * If Jack is lucky, he gets them both in which case Aaron runs logistics and she cuddles him and they'll read together or watch movies. If it's just Aaron on his own, Jack is a little clingier and will want to go with him to the kitchen and stuff while the soup is made and when he was younger, Aaron would balance him on one hip while handling everything else with the other hand. Once he's older, he's set on the island and watched carefully to make sure he finishes his food and if his symptoms show any signs of changing. 
  * Much like her, Jack doesn't need much while he's sick, content to just doze off to something gentle while sprawled across either his father's chest or her lap. 




End file.
